


the people who raised me

by efreet (orphan_account)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adoption, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 06:51:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5238548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/efreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re defective, burdensome, useless. They should hate you. You <em>want</em> them to hate you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the people who raised me

You’ve never had a family before.

It’s weird, having parents who care so much. Sometimes you’re afraid you can’t handle it. It’s so different than what you’re used to. It’s overwhelming, suffocating. It feels like you’re finally doing something _right_ when you see Toriel’s smile when you’ve done your chores or when Asgore sees you helping in the garden. You want to feel like that all the time, but you know you can’t.

Asriel sometimes says that it’s impossible to please everyone all the time. He thinks that Toriel and Asgore will love you no matter what, which you definitely don’t believe. If you can’t please them, they’ll throw you away--isn’t that how the world works? One wrong move and they won’t want you anymore.

You owe Toriel and Asgore so much. They let you sleep in Asriel’s room, they make meals for you. They even bring you toys to play with and let you sit in the garden whenever you feel like it. They smile at you and say “good morning” and tuck you into bed at night. Every small kindness weighs on you, another addition to a debt you’ll never be able to repay.

And as if that’s not enough, they’re patient when you do things wrong, too. You make so many mistakes. You get angry and upset, you slam doors and hide under your covers, you refuse to do your chores and yell when they try to talk to you. But they never hit you, never scream at you, even though you know you deserve it.

Those debts feel even bigger. By now, you know you’ll never be able to pay them all back.

Sometimes you do bad things on purpose because you’re waiting for them to snap, to throw you out and tell you never to come back. You’re expecting it. But it never happens. You don’t understand. What can they possibly get out of caring for you like this?

You remember one night, when you were feeling your worst, you crept into the kitchen and broke Asgore’s favorite mug. It was yellow, with BEST DAD written on it in bright red letters. You hadn’t picked it out on purpose--you had wanted to break something, anything, and it just happened to be sitting there on the counter.

Asgore had come into the kitchen at the sound of breaking china, and helped you sweep it up. “Don’t worry, child,” he had said. “Accidents happen to all of us,”

You hadn’t even managed to apologize. You just stood there, frozen, until Asgore had handed you the dustpan. Mechanically, you went through the motions of scooping up the broken pieces in the dustpan and throwing them away. Then you let Asgore lead you back to bed.

The next morning at breakfast, Toriel had only said, “I’m sorry about the mug, dear,” and then, “Chara, are you all right?”

You nodded and went back to picking at your breakfast. Asriel had given you a questioning look, but you ignored it, guilt pooling in your stomach. But more than that, you were confused. Why wasn’t Toriel angry? Why hadn’t Asgore been upset with you, last night? Even now, you don’t really understand.

There were other times, too.

Toriel had been reading you both a story. She was sitting on your bed, since tonight it was your turn to see the picture book first. That night, it had been one of Asriel’s favorites, the book about the Angel.

“The Angel came down from the surface,” read Toriel. Above the words, there was a picture of a strange creature made of shapes, descending in a ray of light. “The Angel broke the barrier, with the power of seven human souls,”

Asriel’s face was full of wonder. Toriel hadn’t liked to read the story often, claiming it was better to forget about such fantasies. She didn’t like to think about the surface. But Asriel had begged and begged her and finally she gave in.

“The Underground went empty,” Toriel continued. “We emerged under the Sun. And monsters lived in peace until the end of time,”

There was a drawing of shadowy figures lined up beneath a glowing orb. It was the wrong color, all green and blue, but you decided to keep quiet about that for now. A lot of things in the book were wrong. There were stars in the picture too, but Asriel’s eyes shone more brightly than their metallic paint.

Then Toriel closed the book, and leaned over to kiss you good night. She had braced her hand on the bed frame for balance, and her hand had caught beneath the mattress.

You had been hiding kitchen knives there. You watched her draw one of them out, carefully examining in it the dim light. Her expression had been very sad. You remember it even now.

Toriel had drawn all of the knives from your bed with magic, and taken them with her. Later, you found she had locked up all the other sharp things in the house, and filed down the fireplace tools. Then she came back to check your bandages, and smooth down your blankets. She kissed you once more, then moved to do the same to Asriel.

She hadn’t screamed at you, or called you a freak. She hadn’t even scolded you.

It doesn’t make any sense. You’re defective, burdensome, useless. They should hate you. You _want_ them to hate you.

Two days ago, you and Asriel had put the buttercups in Asgore’s pie and made him sick. You had thought you’d finally figured it out. You had been happy. Toriel had been so angry, like she should have been all those times before. But even then, she hadn’t thrown you away.

Asgore is still recovering. Asriel won’t look you in the eye, and Toriel’s smiles are strained. You think, _This is the way things should be._ Even though it hurts, it’s what you deserve. You’re not a part of this family. It’s pointless to keep pretending.

You spend a lot of time in Asgore’s garden, picking at the buttercups. If you stay there long enough, your hands start to itch and burn, but you don’t mind. Asriel sits far away from you, in a clump of sunflowers, lost in his own thoughts.

You’re thinking of debts and payment, as blisters break out across your skin. The light through the barrier above comes through greenish blue. It reminds you of the sun from Asriel’s favorite story, about the monsters going free.

 _Seven Human Souls_ , the story said. But only one is needed to cross it.  

You think of Asriel’s shining eyes, and Toriel’s quiet grief. You think of Asgore’s flowers flourishing beneath the sun.

You think of dying.

You understand, then, how to repay the parents who took you in.

“Asriel,” you say, quietly. “I have an idea,”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is a very personal fic i'm not entirely satisfied with. i feel like it jumps around a lot and the ending is very abrupt. but thanks for sticking with it! 
> 
> (also this is a repost since it wasn't showing up in the tag; thank you to the four people who left kudos on the first version!)


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